


You Keep Me Searching

by Brumeier



Series: Life in the Yukon [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More Joy Day Fest, Past Relationship(s), Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Steve is in Alaska looking for Bucky, and his chance to finally make things right between them. But nothing in Lantea ever goes exactly to plan.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Life in the Yukon [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1095657
Comments: 19
Kudos: 82





	You Keep Me Searching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taste_is_Sweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/gifts).



> In celebration of More Joy Day, for my friend Taste_is_Sweet!

“Maybe we should take one of those cruises,” Sam suggested. “You know, where you sail past glaciers and get to see some of those big-ass Kodiak bears.”

“We’re not here to sight-see.”

“We’re not _not_ here to sight-see,” Sam countered back with a grin. “Come on, man. I’m using most of my vacation time for this trip, you gotta make it worth my while.”

“Isn’t spending time with me reward enough?”

Sam groaned, and went back to fiddling with the radio. Steve didn’t mind joking around, but he wasn’t in Alaska to look at bears or moose or natural wonders. He felt he had a strong lead, that this time he’d find Bucky. Steve had no idea what would happen once he finally did, had never really let himself think that far ahead, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. 

Steve’s cell phone rang, and Sam scooped it off the center console. “You’ve reached the phone of Steve Rogers. This is Sam speaking. Oh, hey Bren. We’re in the car, I’ll put you on speaker.”

Sam suited words to action and held the phone closer to Steve.

_I know you’re out of town, Steven, but I need your decision on the del Toro script. His people won’t stop calling._

“You got offered a del Toro script? Man, that’s awesome!” Sam said.

Steve shrugged. “I’m not sure it’s right for me, Brenda.”

_They literally wrote the part for you._

“He’ll take it,” Sam said. “What? You know you’d feel shitty if you said no, when they obviously want you for the movie. Plus, hello? Del Toro!”

Steve hated that Sam was right. If he didn’t take the part, he’d feel guilty, and it wasn’t like the role was badly written or anything like that. It was just a little out of his comfort zone.

_Steven?_

“Yeah, okay. Tell them I’m in.”

_Wonderful! The second you get back you can sign the contract. Guillermo is really looking forward to meeting with you._

“Thanks, Brenda.”

_Keep him out of trouble, Sam._

“Easier said than done, Bren. Keep it real.” Sam ended the call and tossed the phone back in the console. “Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” Working with del Toro was an exciting opportunity, but all Steve could think was that he’d be at least three or four months on location, plus whatever might be needed for post-production. If Bucky wasn’t in Alaska, that would be more time taken away from trying to find him.

Steve knew he was obsessed, but until he found Bucky, until he had a chance to talk to him and try to change his mind, he couldn’t stop searching.

“You know, there’s a word for people like you,” Sam said conversationally. “And it rhymes with walker.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“You keep telling yourself that. I’m just glad I’m not your therapist, or we could never be friends. Oh, hey! Check it out!” Sam pointed out two people running dogsleds in the open snowy field parallel to the road. “Do you think that’s hard to do? I think it’d be cool to try.”

“Only if you really like dogs,” Steve said, glad for the change in topic.

They debated the various merits of dog racing versus horse racing versus running with the bulls in Pamplona, until they passed the sign for Lantea. Steve’s stomach knotted up. Time to see if his lead actually paid off.

*o*o*o*

_That concludes K-LAN’s Opera Hour for another day. Remember to tip your waiter, because Jon has renovations he needs to pay for and every little bit counts. Now for some notices. The Laund-Ro-Bowl will be closed next Thursday so the lanes can get serviced and the broken dryer fixed, so plan ahead._

_Doc Beckett would like to remind everyone that the dental hygienist will be in town week after next and you should come down to his office and sign up with Jissika for a timeslot. Everyone who gets their teeth cleaned will get a new toothbrush and some dental floss._

_In conjunction with the middle school’s unit on the Civil War, the Royale Theater will be showing the critically acclaimed movie_ Brother Versus Brother _all weekend, starring America’s sweetheart Steve Rogers. Students get in for free._

_And now back to the music! By special request, here’s some Hootie and the Blowfish._

_With a little love and some tenderness_  
_We'll walk upon the water_  
_We'll rise above the mess_  
_With a little peace and some harmony_  
_We'll take the world together_  
_We'll take them by the hand_

“America’s sweetheart?” Sam said incredulously. “If they only knew.”

“Very funny.” 

They were rolling up the main drag of Lantea, and it looked quaint in the way all small towns did, even it if wasn’t postcard picture pretty. Steve hoped that would help with his search; surely in such a small town someone would know Bucky. If he was there.

“Hey, can we get something to eat before you start knocking on doors? I’m hungry.”

“Sure.” 

It wasn’t hard to find the Pegasus Café, which had a large mural painted on the brick façade depicting a winged horse in flight. Steve figured that was as good a place to start as any, and he was feeling a little hungry himself. He found street parking nearby, and then had his breath sucked away when he got out of the rental car.

“Damn!” Sam exclaimed, zipping up his jacket. “How is it so cold? Are you sure we’re not at the North Pole?”

“Knew I should’ve taken that left turn at Albuquerque,” Steve joked.

Sam pushed him up the sidewalk, which had snow piled almost hip high on either side. It was a relief to slip into the restaurant, which was nice and warm. And decorated with a mix of mounted animal heads, old license plates, and colored glass bottles.

“Grab a seat anywhere,” said a young guy with an apron tied around his waist. “I’ll be right with you.”

He hadn’t seemed to have recognized Steve, which was good. Steve cultivated a beard when he wasn’t working, and between that and the ball cap he wore, most people just saw him as a regular guy.

“It smells amazing in here,” Sam said, taking a deep breath. “Look at that specials list! Elk tacos. Where else in the world can you get something like that?”

They grabbed a booth in the corner, and their waiter quickly returned with a couple glasses of water.

“I’m Jon. Feel free to choose anything on the menu – it’s all on that chalkboard over there. It’s all made fresh on site and it’s all amazing.”

“Jon. From the radio?” Sam asked.

“The same. Take your time, I’ll be back in a minute.”

The menu was short but eclectic, most things locally sourced. There were burgers and sandwiches and salads, but everything had some sort of twist to it. Like reindeer burgers with a wildberry compote. Steve was giving that one some serious consideration.

“What do you think about –” Sam started to say, and then the door blew open, sending in a swirl of snow and a man wearing a puffy green winter coat and one of those furry hats with the ear flaps.

“JB!” he bellowed. “Rematch!”

The entire restaurant fell silent, and Steve exchanged a look with Sam. What were they about to be caught in the middle of? 

“A challenge has been issued!” called out the dark-haired man at the bar wearing a police officer’s uniform. “Will it be answered?”

An air of anticipation filled the room.

“Are you getting dueling banjos vibes?” Sam whispered across the table.

“Maybe we should go.”

Before either of them could make a move, the swinging door to the kitchen opened hard enough to bang against the wall.

“Challenge accepted!”

“You’re going down this time, you one-armed bastard!”

Steve was pretty sure he was having a stroke, because his elusive ex-boyfriend was standing there in a grease-stained apron, a red bandanna tied around his forehead and his empty sleeve pinned up.

“You gotta be shitting me,” Sam said.

Steve was incapable of speech. Bucky, after all this time. He looked good. Healthy. Ready to do some sort of battle that had the other patrons moving chairs and tables around.

The challenger shed his big green coat and handed it off to a portly man who also appeared to be taking bets. The kitchen door opened again, and another man came out and leaned against the bar. 

“Give me twenty on JB, Bernard,” he called out. 

Jon the waiter swung back around to their booth. “There’s going to be a delay in getting your orders put in.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“JB is our resident arm-wrestling champ. He’s the guy there with one arm, works in the kitchen.” Jon leaned against the end of the booth. “Harvey is the challenger. He got pretty close last time, but JB’s hard to beat.”

“Oh, this I gotta see.”

Bucky was arm-wrestling? Steve couldn’t make sense of this new, different Bucky. When they’d last seen each other, the day Bucky had left town, he’d been wrapped in an air of defeat and self-pity.

_“I’m no good to anyone like this. Especially you.”_

_“Bucky, that’s not –”_

_“Yes it is! I see how you look at me now, Steve. I just…I can’t do this anymore.”_

_“Please don’t do this!”_

Somewhere in the intervening two years Bucky had gotten his confidence back. Without Steve. That hurt more than he expected.

Bucky and Harvey sat on opposite sides of the table that had been moved to the center of the room, each one flexing their fingers and making a big show out of getting ready.

“You’re goin’ down, fry cook,” Harvey said, still wearing his furry hat.

“Bring it on, garbage man,” Bucky countered.

“Keep it clean, fellas.”

“That’s Sheriff Q,” Jon said. “He officiates most of the matches.”

Bucky and Harvey clapped their hands together and the sheriff checked to make sure no-one was hiding anything that could give them an edge. Bucky shifted in his chair, spread his legs, and planted his feet.

“Go!” Sheriff Q shouted, backing up out of the way.

The noise level in the restaurant ratcheted up as everyone started cheering for their favorite, and it quickly became clear that Bucky was the frontrunner. More people were coming in through the front door, too, crowding around to get a better look. Sam and Steve had to stand up just to see.

Bucky and Harvey were both making rumbling noises of exertion, their arms bulging as they each tried to force the other’s arm down to touch the table.

“Your boy has some mean upper body strength,” Sam said.

“He always did,” Steve said distractedly. “He boxed in high school.”

Jon shot him a quick look. “I’ll be back for your order,” he said, melting back into the crowd.

“I think your cover’s blown, man,” Sam said.

“What?”

Sam pointed, and Steve saw that Jon had made his way over to the bar. He was murmuring something in the ear of the man who’d come out of the kitchen, and they both glanced over at Steve and Sam. 

While Steve’s attention was diverted a huge cheer went up and he looked back to see Sheriff Q holding Bucky’s hand up. Bucky’s face was red but he was beaming from ear to ear.

“Let’s hear it for JB! The champ’s winning streak continues!”

More cheering and even some picture taking, and people settled their bets with the portly guy. The guy from the kitchen shook Bucky’s hand, slapped him on the back, and said something to him that wiped the smile right off Bucky’s face.

“Think he’ll make a break for it?” Sam asked.

Steve set his shoulders. “Not this time.”

He was ready to wade through the crowd and confront Bucky, but Bucky had the same idea. He made his way to Steve and Sam’s table, a shuttered expression on his face. Sam dropped back down in his seat, but Steve stayed on his feet.

“Hey,” Bucky said. 

“Hey, yourself,” Sam replied. “Funny place to find Hollywood’s most elusive stuntman.”

Bucky nodded. “I see you’re still hanging around this guy.” He nodded at Steve but didn’t look at him.

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.”

The banter, which had once been so natural, was strained and awkward. Steve hated it.

“Can we talk?” he asked, though it really wasn’t a request.

Bucky nodded again. “We can use the office.”

“I’ll just hang out here with some elk tacos,” Sam said.

Bucky led the way back through the dispersing crowd, to the rear of the restaurant. The guy from the kitchen intercepted Steve before he could follow Bucky into the office.

“Mr. Rogers. I’m a real big fan of your work.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“JB’s a real good friend of mine. He’s important to this whole town, really. You might want to keep that in mind.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to say to that, but the guy didn’t seem to need a response. He just slipped back into the kitchen without another word. The threat was clear, though. If Steve hurt Bucky he’d be run out of town on a rail.

The office was small, just a desk, some shelves, a filing cabinet, and a big map of Alaska hanging on the wall that had some holes poked through it. The room could’ve been layered in velvet and gilt, and Steve would still only have eyes for Bucky.

“Let’s move past the bullshit,” Bucky said before Steve could get a word out. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve been looking for you,” Steve replied. If it was honesty Bucky wanted, that’s what he was going to get. “Ever since you ran away.”

Bucky’s face reddened, but he didn’t deny it. “There was no reason to stay.”

“We could’ve –”

“You know what I don’t get here?” Bucky interrupted. “Pity. No-one here pities me or tells me what I can and can’t do with only one arm.”

Steve felt that like a physical blow, but he forced himself not to look away. “I never pitied you.”

“No bullshit, I said.”

“It was never pity,” Steve insisted. His hands clenched into fists at his side. After Bucky’s accident he’d only seen what Bucky had lost. What they had lost. He’d wanted to help, wanted to make things better. But he’d screwed it all up.

“’I’ll take care of you.’ That’s what you said. Like I was some helpless cripple who needed you waiting on me hand and foot.” Bucky pointed angrily at the door. “Did you see what happened out there? I can take care of myself! And I don’t need you looking at me with those stupid blue eyes, like you just lost your dog.”

“It was my fault!” Steve shouted. 

He sagged back at the confession, hands braced on the desk behind him. There. It was out. The thing he’d wanted to say all this time. He took a shuddering breath, unable now to look Bucky in the eye. 

“I wrote the scene. They put it in because I wanted to do it, because it was my big film and I wanted it to be bigger.”

“Is your ego really that out of control?” Bucky asked, sounding incredulous. “I suppose you think we all just fawn at your feet, doing anything you ask us to do because you’re the great Steve Rogers, America’s Sweetheart. Fuck you.”

“The stunt was my idea.”

“And Eddie and the rest of the team went over it with a fine-toothed comb to make sure it was doable,” Bucky said. “We did mock-ups. We did practice runs. Sometimes shit just goes wrong. If Eddie thought it was a bad idea, we wouldn’t have done it. Not for you, not for anyone.”

Steve had never been able to watch the finished film. They’d used some of the footage from that day, and digitally enhanced the rest, but for him it would always be the movie where Bucky lost his arm doing that idiotic train stunt, the one Steve had devised because he thought he could be more than just an actor. He’d never forget the sound of Bucky’s screams as his arm was crushed by the train.

“So you felt guilty,” Bucky said. “That’s why you stayed. After.”

“I stayed because I love you.” Steve looked up, looked Bucky right in the eye. “I never stopped loving you. I fucking missed you, you jerk.”

“You getting sentimental?”

“I mean it, Bucky. I want you to come home.”

Steve knew he sounded desperate, but it had been _so long_. He’d been searching so long. It was stupid and corny, but Bucky was his other half. Steve felt like he’d been the one missing a limb.

He didn’t know how much of that showed on his face, but Bucky’s expression finally softened, losing the hard angles.

“I have a life here,” Bucky said, not unkindly. “A good life.”

“We had a good life in LA,” Steve reminded him.

Even though Steve had more than enough money for a big mansion up in the Hills, he and Bucky lived in a 1920s bungalow, which was small and cozy and felt more like a home than any other place Steve had lived. They had their work, which was more like play, and their shared circle of friends. Both their stars had been on the rise until Bucky’s accident.

Steve willed Bucky to remember.

“Yeah,” Bucky said softly. “Yeah, we did.”

“We can have it again.”

“I’m not the same. It wouldn’t be the same.”

Steve held out his hand. “Then we’ll make something new. Together.”

Bucky hesitated, long enough for Steve to get a sinking feeling in his gut, and then he reached out and took Steve’s hand.

“Maybe we can. But you need to give me time.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “You can have all the time you want. Just don’t run away again.”

“Nowhere to hide from you, right? Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Steve reeled him in and hugged him, trying not to think about the bear hugs Bucky used to give him when he still had two arms. Things would be different, but the love Steve had for Bucky would never change.

*o*o*o*

_That was_ Se El Kay _by the Finnish band Lapinlahden Linnut, by popular request. Coming up, we have the Crooner Power Hour featuring Pat Boone, Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and the incomparable Engelbert Humperdinck._

_Don’t forget to stop by the Pegasus Café on Saturday for JB’s going away party. He’ll be spending a few months in sunny Los Angeles to work as a stunt coordinator for the first film being produced by Steve Rogers’ new production company, Brooklyn Boy Pictures. Steve, fresh off filming a new movie with Guillermo del Toro, will also be at the party if anyone missed a photo op or autograph the last time he was in town._

_Everyone here at K-LAN wishes JB good luck, and a speedy return. In related news, the Café is still looking for a fill-in fry cook, so spread the word!_

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Title from the song [Heart of Gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh44QPT1mPE) by Neil Young. I started writing this for Taste at Christmas, but words were nearly impossible to come by last month and the month before. Luckily, I was able to get it together in time for More Joy Day. All my Bucky fics are for Taste, since it’s her fault I even know who he is. ::grins:: And it was time to get JB out of the kitchen. At least for a little while.
> 
> Special thanks to nagi_schwarz for the hand-holding. Getting Steve and Bucky into that office to talk was the easy part. Resolving that took me ages. Hopefully it works!


End file.
